


Don't Ask Questions...

by Churbooseanon



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 14:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Churbooseanon/pseuds/Churbooseanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you shouldn't ask questions, because you can't handle the answers. That tends to be twice as true if you're asking of Florida.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Ask Questions...

It’s not until the fifth time he has to stop in their quiet advance into the building that Washington seems to process what is going on.

Wyoming had bet it would take seven. Florida had more faith in the young Freelancer, and had been pleased to find Wash stopping him almost as if on cue when Florida siddled up to the opposite side of the door, ready to breach.

"What the hell is going on here?" Wash snaps, his voice low and tinged with a bit more fear than Florida has ever heard there before.

"Oh dear," Florida breezes, grinning in his helmet as he slips his knife away and gives his full grip to his gun. "Have you hit your head, Agent Washington? That will never do. Okay, let’s start at the top. I’m Agent Florida, the ruggedly…"

"Not even," Wash sighs, shaking his head. "I’ve had to slow our advance several times because of you. What is going on with that?"

Florida pretends to contemplate for a moment, savoring the air of tension around Wash and waits until he’s practically vibrating right out of his armor to answer. “I’ve been finishing off the men behind us.”

"Finishing… Finishing off? Florida they were all…"

Florida can almost feel the moment when it clicks in Wash’s head. He can actually see the second Wash goes rigid, his hands tightening on his rifle. It’s the reaction Florida had always wished he could get from Wyoming, but Wyoming had always been too composed to give up. It’s hilarious, to see that shiver of fear at the realization that no, if Florida said he was finishing people off, he had been. He watches as Wash angles his head back to the few fallen bodies behind him, picks out the ones he hadn’t shot himself. Figures the younger man is using his HUD to magnify, to see the artful way Florida always aimed for joints. Ankles, knees, shoulders, elbows. The way none of the shots were ever in the center of mass, never in the head.

He doesn’t have to use his HUD. He can just close his eyes to see the bloody smiles cut into necks, the quickly bleeding wounds from stabs to the heart, and he can almost taste the fear from the one he had cut open all four major arteries in the limbs for. That last one was the reason he’d delayed them this time. Sure, he had the strokes down to a blur of motion of a person was still standing, but it took more time when you weren’t aiming to dull your knife on the concrete they were laying on, already bleeding out from a nasty shoulder wound.

"Florida," Wash says after a long moment, and the way his voice shakes is just so amusing.

"Yes, Agent Washington?"

"This is just going to slow us down. We’re on a time table."

"And I have allotted time for this."

Wash’s helmet is facing him, and he thinks the younger man is trying to be hard, trying to put some of Carolina’s steel in his voice.

"No more. Use your gun unless something else is absolutely necessary."

Florida just smiles and nods. If Washington thinks he can’t have fun with carefully placed shots, well, he’s got another thing coming. He’s always heard that gut wounds are a terrible way to go…


End file.
